Especially seriously sexy ones like Jarett.
They rode down the elevator in silence. Meg’s cheeks burned when she remembered the shameless way she’d behaved. Jarett looked tired and shifted foot to foot. Antsy to be rid of her? She pushed up her glasses and felt a little worse.
“We won’t be able to discuss our…arrangement in front of the cabdriver,” he said. “So I want to thank you again for all that you’ve done for Taylor. And for me.”
She conjured up a smile, and nodded briefly, wondering what Taylor would think if she knew just what Meg had done for Jarett. Oh, God—what if the woman had heard them from her sick-bed in the next room? She winced.
They stopped on the second floor, then took the back stairs down to the ground floor. A black taxicab sat outside the door. As they walked out, Jarett’s head pivoted side to side, and his hand hovered at her waist. An involuntary bodyguard gesture, she realized. Nothing special.
The cab ride was equally as quiet—awkward even. She just wanted to sleep, although she suspected she’d have a hard time of it tonight. Tomorrow she’d be busy with the cleaners and the repairmen. She sighed.
“Are you okay?” he asked, reaching over and patting her hand.
Like she was a pet or something.
“I’m fine,” she assured him.
He whistled under his breath and looked out the window throughout the rest of the ride. When they got to the shop, Meg almost bolted. She’d never been so glad to see anyplace in her life.
“I’ll walk you to the door,” Jarett said, leaning forward.
“No, don’t,” she said, gripping the door handle. They might draw unwanted attention.
He sat back. “Okay.” Then he let out a loud breath. “Well, it’s been interesting.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “Interesting.”
He held her gaze and seemed to want to say something. “Goodbye,” she said, making it easy for him.
“Goodbye.”
She lifted the handle, then opened the door.
“Hey,” he said, and she turned around.
“Perhaps our paths will cross again.”
She stared at him, her heart thumping. “Perhaps.” Then she climbed out of the limo, and walked out of Jarett’s life.
The sidewalk was illuminated by tall street-lights. She walked quickly to the shop door and let herself in. The darn bell on the door clanged, scaring the bejeezus out of her. Suddenly, she was exhausted. This was undoubtedly the longest day of her life.
She looked out the window, her heart racing double-time. And undoubtedly the most memorable day of her life.
From the cab, Jarett watched with a dry mouth until Meg locked the door, then he signaled the driver to leave.
If he hadn’t been so caught up in memorizing the moment he would last see her, he might have noticed the dark car that had quietly parked across the street. And the zoom camera lens protruding from a lowered window.
14
JARETT STARTED AWAKE, instantly on alert at the alien sound invading his subconscious. It took a couple of seconds to orient himself—he’d fallen asleep sitting up, leaning against a headboard, one pillow at his back, one across his midsection. The television was on, but the volume was muted, so that wasn’t the source of the sound. His mind raced to fill in the details. Hotel room. Chicago. Meg.
The events of the previous evening flooded back, and he conceded a sore muscle or two as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. The woman had been incredible, both as Taylor and as herself.
A sharp knock shook the door between his room and Taylor’s. Ah, now he knew what the noise was. He sighed and stretched, then glanced at the clock—9:15 a.m. It was late for him to be getting up, but he hadn’t fallen asleep until around three in the morning. And when he had, he’d been haunted by sparkling green eyes behind unremarkable glasses.
“Jarett,” Taylor yelled, still pounding. “Let me in.”
She hated it when he locked her out of his room, but he’d been awakened one too many times on roadtrips by a naked Taylor slipping into his bed. His best defense, he’d decided long ago, was a good offense.
He stood and pulled on his pants. The weight of his impending conversation with Taylor sat in his stomach like a stone. Rosie had gladly agreed to keep quiet about Taylor’s alter ego until Jarett figured out how to tell her. Last night when he returned from dropping off Meg, both women had been snoring up a storm. He’d hoped that Taylor would at least be well rested this morning, and in a pleasant mood.
He opened the door to her black scowl—apparently “pleasant” had been too optimistic.
“Good morning,” he said, running his hand through his hair.
“What the hell is this?” she asked, shoving a Chicago newspaper in his hand.
Taylor Gee Attacked by Animal Rights Activist. And just in case he’d had any fantasies about lying, a full-color picture of him comforting a paint-splattered Meg accompanied the piece.
Jarett sighed—at least he didn’t have to think of a way to break the news. “Come in,” he said.
“I’ll make coffee.”
Taylor stamped after him, her negligee flying.
“I don’t want any goddamned coffee. I want to know how it was possible for me to be anywhere with you last night when I don’t remember leaving the room! Rosie won’t tell me anything. She just stands there shaking like a Chihuahua.”
“Sit down, Taylor.”
“I—”
“Sit.”
She sat.
He put a filter pack in the coffeemaker and ran water into the glass pitcher. “You promised me you’d stop taking the pills.”
“What has this got to do—”
“Everything,” Jarett cut in, slamming the pitcher down on the counter. Water sloshed over the edge. He inhaled deeply, then slowly let out his breath. “Your pill popping has everything to do with that picture,” he said quietly.
“I don’t understand.”
“Taylor, you were expected to be at that reception last night. Mort Heckel was there—Mac Peterson said he was having doubts about renewing your contract after your little performance at Zago’s. And he’s gotten wind of the rumors that you might be hooked on something.”
She swallowed, then tossed her head. “So?”
“So, Peterson told me to do whatever I had to do to get you there.”
A haughty little laugh emerged from her throat. “Well, you must have given me a whole handful of uppers because like I said, I don’t remember a damn thing.”
“That’s because you weren’t there.”
She stopped laughing. “What are you saying?”
“I found a body double to fill in for you.”
Taylor’s jaw dropped and she yanked the picture up to her face. “That’s impossible.”
“Apparently not,” he said dryly, pouring the water into the machine. He flipped the “on” switch, then turned back to Taylor.
Her tanned face darkened to scarlet. “Who is she?”
“Someone local.” And lovely. And very special.
“How dare you?” She pushed herself to her feet, and lunged for him. “This could ruin my career.”
He grabbed her wrist before she could slap him. “No, Taylor, you were well on your way to doing that all on your own. And I should have let you—maybe it would have taught you a lesson.”
She snorted and jerked her hand away. “Surely no one believed it was me.”
“Everyone did,” he said, then gestured to the picture. “Even you.”
Her throat convulsed and her eyes filled with angry tears. “Why do you like hurting me, Jarett? You know I love you.”
Jarett sighed and walked to the closet to find a shirt. “Taylor, can’t you see? I did this to help you. And it was no easy feat, I can tell you, for either one of us.”
Taylor stared at the picture. “Is she an actress? How did you find her?”
He shrugged into a white shirt and buttoned the two middle buttons. “Remember
that costume shop you stopped in yesterday?”
She nodded.
“I noticed when we walked in that the girl at the counter was a dead ringer for you.”
She scoffed. “That mousy shopgirl? You can’t be serious.”
He leaned over to tap the picture in the newspaper. “As a heart attack.”
Taylor pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of the pocket in her robe.
“I have a nonsmoking room,” he said.
“I don’t give a damn,” she said, and lit up. When she drew on the cigarette, her eyes bulged. She crossed her legs at the knee, then pointed at him with the cigarette. “I thought there was something going on with you two.”
He frowned. “What are you talking about?”
She exhaled the smoke straight into the air. “I saw her flirting with you.”
Since Taylor in a jealous rage was not a pretty sight, he was glad he’d taken the time to gather the clothes Meg had been wearing and put them in the bathroom. “You were imagining things.”
Her laugh was harsh, and the foot of her crossed leg bounced up and down. “She was to tally in awe of you. Did you even have to pay her for the charade?”
“As it turned out,” Jarett said, leaning forward to pluck the cigarette from her hand, “you left a cigarette in the dressing room and damn near burned the place down.” He stubbed out the cigarette on a stoneware saucer, then crushed the rest of it into the ash. “I paid her twenty thousand dollars, first for the repairs and then to pretend she was you at the reception.”
Taylor stared at the cigarette, and had the grace to look contrite. For a full two seconds. “For twenty thousand, I hope she gave a good performance.”
“She did. Mort Heckel loved her.”
A smile curved her mouth. “You mean he loved me.”
He nodded. “Yes, he thought she was you, and he was charmed. She apologized for your tawdry behavior at Zago’s, and endeared herself to him.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, she did, did she?”
“Yes. You should be thanking her, Taylor.”
She looked him up and down, then angled her head. “Sounds as if she endeared herself to you, too.”
He poured them both a cup of coffee. “Meg Valentine is a grade school teacher from Peoria.
She’s in town running her sister’s shop while she’s away. And she’s a very nice person.”
“How do you know she won’t go to the press?”
He set a cup in front of her, then drank from his. “Meg’s not like that. Besides, her job could be in jeopardy if anyone found out what she did.”
He gave her a wry smile. “In case you haven’t heard, Taylor Gee isn’t exactly a role model.”
She stuck out her tongue. “But how did you get her to really look like me?”
“Rosie helped—dyed her hair, got colored con tact lenses. The makeup artist and hairdresser did the rest.”
“They didn’t know it wasn’t me?”
“Nope. I gave them a picture of you to work from, and when I came back, she was you.”
Taylor scowled and dismissed the picture with a wave. “I would never wear my hair like that.”
He took another drink of coffee. “Maybe you should sometime. It looked nice.”
“That kind of style is for older women,” she said with disdain. “What is she—thirty?”
“Twenty-seven.”
“What’s her sign?”
“Huh?”
“You seem to know a lot about this woman.”
“Just making conversation, Taylor.”
She looked at the headline and her lower lip came out. “Well, this isn’t the best publicity I’ve ever had. And it wasn’t even me.”
Jarett frowned. “Meg’s all right, thanks for asking.”
“Was the dress ruined?”
“See for yourself, it’s hanging in the bath room.”
Her eyebrow arched. “Oh? She got dressed and undressed in your room—how nice.”
“Nice and practical,” he said, resisting her bait. “Besides, she’s engaged.” That would satisfy her, even though it had his stomach in knots.
“Engaged?” She looked immensely cheered, just as he expected. “Well, good for little Meggie.”
Jarett marveled at Taylor’s transparency.
The phone rang and he walked over to pick up the receiver. Some small part of him hoped it was Meg, although he knew she had no reason to call. “Hello?”
“Jarett, it’s Mac. Is Taylor with you?”
“Yeah, we’re having a cup of coffee. Come on up.” He gave the man the room number, then hung up the phone.
“Who was that?”
“Mac is here.”
“Mac Peterson? What’s he doing here?”
He looked over the top of his cup. “I’ll let him tell you. But if I were you, I’d tell him that last night was your idea.”
“Why can’t I just let him believe it was me?”
“Because you shouldn’t lie to your agent. And I talked to him last night before the reception. He knew you were in bad shape.”
Her mouth tightened like a child’s, but she fluffed her hair to make herself look more presentable.
When the knock sounded on the door, Jarett let the older man inside, and they shook hands. Mac wore a suit and his traditional English bowler, which he removed and set in the crook of his arm.
“Hello, Taylor,” Mac said, his tone expectant.
“Hello, Mac,” she said, rising to accept a kiss on the cheek. “To what do I owe this surprise?”
Mac looked at Jarett. Jarett gestured to the table. “Have a seat, Mac. I’ll get you a cup of coffee.”
Peterson sat in the club chair opposite Taylor and smiled. “Congratulations, my dear.”
Jarett made eye contact with Taylor over Mac’s head, and shrugged.
“For what?” she asked.
“For whatever it was you said to Mort Heckel last evening. He left a message on my answering service this morning that he wants to extend your contract for Many Moons by two years.”
She gasped and clapped her hands. “Oh, Jarett, did you hear?”
“I heard,” he said, then bit down on the inside of his cheek. “That’s great news.” He set a cup of coffee in front of Mac.
Mac beamed. “I’ll say. I have to admit I was dreadfully worried when Jarett called last evening, Taylor. I’d hate to see you destroy your career over a trifling addiction. If you can stay out of trouble, Mort Heckel will take care of you.”
He sipped the coffee. “In fact, I think the man has a little crush on you.”
Remembering the way the man had looked at Meg last night, Jarett ground his teeth.
Taylor pasted on a tight smile. “He does?”
“I believe so, because he made a comment about how close you and Jarett seemed at the party. I think he was quite jealous.”
Taylor shot a look toward Jarett. He knew her well enough to recognize the angry little gleam. “Oh?” she asked lightly.
Mac nodded, seemingly amused. “But I told him that the two of you grew up together, practically brother and sister.”
She pushed her cheek out with her tongue, still glaring at Jarett. “That’s right. My big brother, Jarett.”
“Heckel said you were terrific last night, Taylor. He said you got down on the floor and read stories to the children, and were absolutely brilliant.”
Jarett lifted his eyebrow to indicate that she should tell Mac what had really happened.
She stared back defiantly, then turned a charming smile toward Mac. “Let’s just say it’s a side of myself I don’t let everyone see.”
“And he said you apologized about the flashing incident, that you acted very mature.”
She angled her head adorably. “I thought it was the right thing to do.”
Jarett tried not to roll his eyes.
“He thought you were more beautiful in person—prettier even than in pictures or on film.”
Uh-oh.
Taylor’s mouth tightened and a nerve rash raced up her neck. “Is that so?”
“Yes, the man went on and on about you.”
Taylor inhaled deeply, and Jarett covered his cup, fully expecting her to explode any minute. But instead, she exhaled slowly and manufactured a smile. “Good. Then we should be able to get a lot of money out of him.”
Mac chortled. “Yes, indeed. Stay close to the phone over the next few days—I have a feeling I’ll be calling you with a gem of a deal.”
“Unfortunately,” Jarett cut in, “Taylor won’t be available for a while.”
She looked up at him questioningly.
“Why not?” Mac asked.
Jarett pulled a piece of paper out of his wallet. “Because she’s agreed to go into a rehab center here in Chicago, and kick this prescription drug thing before it worsens. Right, Taylor?” He gave her a look that said if she resisted, he would tell Mac everything.
She stared up at him, probably wondering whether or not to call his bluff. Then she finally smiled. “Right.”
Mac squeezed her arm. “That’s wonderful, my dear. You’re on hiatus, so it’s a perfect time to get back on track. If you play your hand right, Taylor, you’re on your way to becoming the next Marilyn.”
Her eyes lit up—Jarett knew that Marilyn Monroe was Taylor’s idol. “Do you really think so?”
“Absolutely,” Mac said, then glanced at his watch. “I have to catch a flight to New York, but I must say, this has been a more pleasant meeting than I’d imagined yesterday.” Then he frowned at the paper. “I am sorry that you had to go through that, my dear, but in truth, it happened at a good time. You needed public sympathy, and now you’ve got it.” He patted her hand. “And all because you pulled yourself up by the bootstraps and did what was asked of you.”
“Hear, hear,” Jarett said, setting down his coffee cup to clap.
Taylor gave him a sarcastic look, but he bounced it right back.
At the door, Mac turned around. “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you.” He rummaged in every pocket before withdrawing a pink message slip. “Mort Heckel is speaking at a fund-raiser at a children’s hospital this afternoon. He wants you to come by and read a story to the children, like you did last night. I told him you’d be glad to do it.”
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